


Temple of Burdens

by FyreCatPickles



Category: One Piece
Genre: Drabble Collection, Freeform, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Not quite poetry but it's pretty close, Roronoa Zoro-centric, Zoro introspection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyreCatPickles/pseuds/FyreCatPickles
Summary: A drabble series about Zoro's Introspection about scars and wounds one carries in and out of fights.Tags will be updated per Chapter--I have heard it once said that one’s body is akin to a temple. That one should treasure and take care of such a sacred shell if one is to achieve ambitious goals.“Another round bartender.”I never was one for tradition.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Flawless

**Author's Note:**

> This series is going to just be quick snippets about Zoro and his thoughts on what it means to carry the burden of battle on one's shoulder. These aren't meant to be long, and if anyone wants me to go into more depth on a particular drabble let me know and I will see what I can do.
> 
> Kuina  
> A memory paves the path to glory  
> 

_Whap_

Her skin was pristine. Untouched by marks or blemishes. Her body would only glisten with sweat by the rays of the sun. The only creation that could come close to marking her skin. The only thing worthy of making her physique change without her permission.

_Whap. Whap!_

Bruises and cuts litter my arms in comparison to her perfection. Lacerations and fissures are all my body feels when I think about her. How many more burdens can my body carry while she reigns above me? With her unmarked flesh taunting me. How much blood will I spill before I am ever graced with seeing a drop of her own?

_Smack!_

Such perfection mocks me.

_Shing._

Drives me.

 _Crash_.

To beat the unbeatable. To mark the skin of my greatest challenger.

A goal that I carry-

_“Humans are really fragile beings, Zoro.”_

-but will never meet.

Her skin will never mark, so my blood spills for two. My body grows callouses in remembrance so she can stay as is in my memory.

Perfect.

Unblemished.

Flawless.


	2. Posturing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji  
> Hands should not move like silk and ribbons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be taken are ZoSan or Nakamaship

His skin is marked by battles, but he dares cover them up. An illusion of perfection. A body concealed by layers of silk and cotton, and yet I know wounds still intimately mar his skin. He hides his mementos of battle.

Would she have frowned at that? Looked down on him for hiding such trophies?

Perhaps it is because his weapons do not create scars. The bruises he leaves behind are long lasting but never permanent. Does he hide his body because he cannot make another’s match? He gives and forgives while covered in the blood of our enemies. He is a warrior by necessity, not desire. He fights. He is strong. He is destruction, but his heart and soul are soft and gentle.

Those kicks; their lethality is internal.  
His hands; gentle and all giving.  
His spirit; an all-consuming passion.  
Like the sea itself: his body and mind are adrift with no anchor.

Without restraint.

My antonym.

In every sense of the word.

But yet-

We fight on a level made for equals.  
Our weapons clash.  
One of leather and another of steal.  
He is my opposite in everything.

And yet-

What would he be like if he were cold instead of the warm inferno?

_“Oi, Moss head. Dinner time.”_

Would he surpass me?

_“Yea, I’m coming.”_

Would he still be my prostrating equal?

Would he still-

_“You good Marimo?”_

-be

_“I’m perfect.”_

-Perfect?


	3. Glittering Shackles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nami  
> The scent of tangerines and oil is home.  
> The sight of orange curls.  
> Noises of debt and navigation  
> -a comfort. 
> 
> She at the helm of our dreams.

She lords a debt over my head. Proudly asserting a leg up in our dynamic.  
Does she know she flaunts her manacles?  
Her reliance on gold to hold me to her.  
Does she know she needs not handcuff wealth for relativity?

-Not for me. Not for Us.

A jingle of coins and jewels. A reminder of shackles she now controls.   
Her battles are of shiny and glittering berī signs.   
A woman of strength who has taken old irons and turned them into weapons of her own.

No one on this ship escapes scars. Not with their adventures.  
Their escapades denote a payment of nicks, cuts, callouses.  
She pays the toll just as the rest, but she has taught that wounds are not just physical.

The mind also is a harbor of traumas.

Ink proudly flexes on her pale skin. A testimony of a war won.  
Her battles are of the mind, so her eyes stay sharp, cunning, conniving.  
Whereas my path is that of a blade: Hers lies within a map.

Our Nami- A navigator on the seas and of the self.  
Knowing she will take us to the ends of these dangerous waters.

_“Oi, Zoro! You coming or what? We don’t want you getting lost!”_  
_“Hm? You’ll get us there. Why worry?”  
_ _“I know I will. It’s you I worry about.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FyreCatPickles) and [ Tumblr ](https://fyrecatpickles.tumblr.com/) where I post Sanji and One Piece head canons.


End file.
